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22. Handling The Situation Like A Pro Player
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2025-05-30 21:00:32
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The Billionaire's Ex-wife Never Looks Back 35. Meeting Shawn Hayes
Ella’s Point of ViewThe Seattle dawn was a soft farewell, its pale light filtering through the living room window as I knelt before Lily, her small arms wrapped tightly around my neck. Her curls tickled my cheek, her warmth a tether to the life I’d built, a reminder of why I was braving this journey. “Be good for Grandpa, okay?” I whispered, kissing her forehead, her giggle a spark that eased the knot in my chest. Emerson stood nearby, his gray eyes steady, offering a reassuring nod. “We’ll be fine, Ella. Go do what you do best,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. I hugged him, a brief embrace that carried years of hard-won trust, then grabbed my suitcase and stepped into the waiting car, my heart heavy but resolute. Chicago awaited, a city shadowed by Marcus’s past, but I was no longer the woman who’d fled. I was a mother, a surgeon, and I’d return to Lily unscathed.The flight was a blur, my mind tracing the steps of Shawn Hayes’s surgery—coarctation of the aorta, a high-stakes pr
The Billionaire's Ex-wife Never Looks Back 34. I Know Who I Am And I'm Not Afraid
Ella’s Point of ViewnThe Seattle night was a quiet embrace, the city’s skyline a faint shimmer beyond my bedroom window, its soft lights filtering through the curtains like a whispered promise of safety. I lay in bed, my daughter Lily curled against me, her small body warm, her steady breaths a rhythm that anchored me. Her dark curls spilled across the pillow, her tiny hand clutching my necklace, the star pendant she’d chosen for me years ago. Five years in Seattle had woven a life I cherished—Lily’s laughter, my work at Emerson’s hospital, the fragile peace I’d built with my father. But the call from Shawn Hayes, his voice warm and urgent, had cracked that peace open, stirring a fear I’d thought I’d buried. Chicago—Marcus’s city—loomed like a storm on the horizon, and I couldn’t shake the dread that going there might unravel everything.I’d spent the day wrestling with Shawn’s request. His condition, a coarctation of the aorta, demanded a delicate surgery, one I was uniquely qualif
The Billionaire's Ex-wife Never Looks Back 32. The Fears of the Past
Ella’s Point of ViewThe Seattle sunset painted the sky in hues of lavender and gold, its soft light filtering through my bedroom window, casting a warm glow over the life I’d built. Five years had slipped by since I’d fled to this city with Emerson, my father, escaping Marcus’s shadow and the terror of his pursuit. Against all odds, things had turned out better than I’d dared hope. Marcus had never found me, his hunters silenced by distance and time. My daughter, Lily, now five, was a radiant spark, her laughter a balm to the scars I carried. I’d thrown myself into my work at the hospital Emerson funded, reclaiming my identity as a doctor, my days filled with purpose. And, slowly, painfully, I’d forgiven Emerson. His genuine remorse for shattering my mother’s life had worn down my walls, a delicate process that left us on fragile but steady ground.I stood by the window, my damp hair loose after a shower, the scent of lavender soap lingering on my skin. The house—Emerson’s spacious
The Billionaire's Ex-wife Never Looks Back 32. Difficult to Recover
Marcus’s Point of ViewThe Chicago skyline glittered beyond my penthouse window, a cold constellation of steel and glass that mirrored the ambition burning in my veins. I adjusted my cufflinks, the silver glinting under the chandelier’s glow, my tailored charcoal suit a armor for the battle ahead. Shawn Hayes, the billionaire investor my father, Joshua Carter, had pinned our hopes on, was the key to stabilizing Carter’s Wine. His wealth could shore up the company I’d nearly tanked, and today’s meeting at his mansion was my chance to prove I wasn’t the failure Joshua saw. But my mind wasn’t on wine or contracts—it was on Ella, always Ella, the ghost who’d haunted me for five years, her absence a wound I refused to let heal.I slid into my black Maserati, the engine’s purr a low growl as I pulled onto Lake Shore Drive, the city’s pulse humming around me. My phone buzzed, Theo’s name flashing on the screen. I answered, speaker mode crackling as his voice filled the car, all easy charm.
The Billionaire's Ex-wife Never Looks Back 31. The Never Ending Obsession
Five Years Later Marcus’s Point of ViewThe Chicago sunrise spilled through the massive windows of my penthouse bedroom, its golden rays glinting off the polished oak floor, mocking the storm raging inside me. I stood before the full-length mirror, adjusting my silk tie with precise, angry tugs, my reflection a mask of control that barely concealed the chaos beneath. My navy suit was immaculate, tailored to perfection, but my eyes—bloodshot from sleepless nights and five years of relentless pursuit—betrayed me. “I hope you’re here to tell me you’re giving me back my CEO position at Carter’s Wine, Dad,” I said, my voice sharp, laced with a defiance I didn’t fully feel. Joshua Carter’s presence in my room this early meant trouble, and I braced for his lecture.“Not so fast, son,” Joshua replied, settling into a leather armchair nearby, his posture as polished as ever despite the silver strands creeping into his dark hair. My father, the patriarch of the Carter family, was a titan in b
The Billionaire's Ex-wife Never Looks Back 30. Hope
Ella’s Point of ViewThe Parisian twilight cast a gentle veil over the city, the Eiffel Tower’s silhouette a quiet sentinel against the deepening sky, its lights flickering like a distant promise I couldn’t quite grasp. I stood on the narrow balcony of my hotel room, the evening breeze cool against my skin, my hand resting softly on my stomach, where my child—a secret I guarded fiercely—stirred within me. My blonde hair, cropped short to maintain my guise as Clara Rossi, danced under a loose scarf, a remnant of my desperate flight from Venice. I murmured, “We’re okay now, little one,” but the words felt fragile, a whisper against the truth that haunted me. A man like Marcus, with his vast resources and unrelenting drive, ensured I’d never truly be free.I gripped the balcony’s iron railing, my gaze lost in the tower’s glow, its elegance a stark contrast to the ache in my chest. Was this my fate—always running, always hiding, a shadow of the woman I’d been? The thought was a quiet wou
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